He's Just Hiding
by faballa
Summary: When Harry Potter saw Severus Snape die from a snake bite, he was fairly certain his old potions professor was out of his life forever. Unfortunately, death doesn't seem to be binding.
1. Not Quite Dead

**Title: **He's Just Hiding

**Summary: **When Harry Potter saw Severus Snape die from a snake bite, he was fairly certain his old potions professor was out of his life forever. Unfortunately, death doesn't seem to be binding.

**Rating:** T for language

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><p>Harry Potter had never demanded, or even asked for, an easy life. He had not spent his life waiting for fate to steal him away from his lot. Nor had he allowed life to hand him glory on a silver platter. In fact, he'd spent seventeen years working very hard and seeing things no boy should see, so he was of the opinion that he had earned and deserved everything that he had today. He had earned the home in the little wizarding suburb by surviving a year in the wild. He had earned his housemate Ron by spending sixteen years with Vernon Dursley and not killing him, even though he could have—without magic—several times. He deserved the auror training he would receive this August because, damn it, he had killed Lord Voldemort! Harry Potter deserved the life he had now.<p>

Which is why, when he opened the door to find a thinly-disguised Severus Snape on his porch, he wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve this.

"Hello, Potter," Snape sneered before Harry could make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Y-your—I—what—I don't—_dead_—how—I didn't—_why?_" While Harry was babbling and clutching on to the door, Snape let himself in. Whoever had transfigured him had done a rather poor job of it. His hair was still a greasy mess, and any former Hogwarts student would be able to see past the artificial freckles and straightened nose into the dark, hateful eyes. "You're _alive!_" Harry finally choked out.

"Astute observation, Potter. You always were the sharp one."

"No, no, you're dead." Harry closed the door but still clutched onto the knob. Snape had begun to remove his shoes. He seemed quite alive. "I saw you die. You gave me your memories and you loved my mom and then _I _died and then I saved everyone and you were definitely dead. Remember? The snake bit you, remember?"

Snape straightened up and a muscle in his jaw was jumping, making Harry think that he did, in fact, remember. "Yes, I remember," he said through clenched teeth. "You ran off and left me on the floor with that bloody snake. And I had to crawl my way out of that house, past the Whomping Willow, only to be found be some centaurs who _really _liked Dumbledore! So yes, Potter, _I remember_."

Something in Harry's brain told him that he should apologize. However, he had a true problem feeling bad about harming people who reminded him of Snape. Especially if those people happened to actually _be _Snape. "You looked _really _dead," he finally said weakly.

"Really? _Fascinating._" Snape began moving into Harry's home, glancing into his parlor before making his way into the kitchen. Harry was struck dumb until Snape began rummaging through his cupboards and turning the sink on and off.

"You can't stay here, Snape."

"Oh? And where do you suggest I go?" He stopped molesting Harry's kitchenware and turned around. "You know I've been homeless for the past two months." His tone suggested that he blamed Harry.

"I don't care. Look, I may know why you did what you did, but Ron doesn't and neither does the rest of the—"

"I'm aware that the rest of the world still thinks I'm a traitorous bastard." His eyes narrowed into tiny black slits. "The Ministry won't take me off their wanted list until someone produces a body." He grit his teeth. "Or at least a story."

"I told them, Snape. I told them everything—well, except the parts about my mum, those were a little weird." Snape was turning an astounding shade of purple. Harry had never seen the likes of it except on Vernon Dursley. "It isn't my fault they didn't believe me."

"No, it's never Prince Potter's fault, is it? You just go on and play the hero your whole life; everyone else will be sure to clean up your messes. Just leave the trail of bodies in your wake," Snape snarled. Harry felt like he'd been slapped. More than anything he wanted to push Snape out of his home and back onto the street. But before he could kick Snape out of his home and regain any sense of normalcy, Snape uttered, "As much as I hate to say it Potter, you're the only one who can help me."

"I'm certain that isn't true; there are plenty of great psychiatrists in London." Harry was about to laugh at his own joke, but Snape looked ready to wring his neck. He thought better of it.

"You're the only one who can clear my name. I need you to persuade Shacklebolt that I'm innocent so I can change my name and move west."

"Fine. Easy. I'll do that. You go find yourself a flat someplace nice, and I'll owl you once the paperwork's through." Snape laughed. Harry wondered if this was the first time he'd actually heard Snape laugh.

"You're funny Potter. No, I'm staying here."

"The hell you are! Do you know what the Ministry does to people who harbor fugitives? Because I'm pretty sure it rhymes with Azkaban!"

Snape sighed. "It bothers me that you don't know how rhymes work. And please, don't think of me as a fugitive. Think of me as the man who saved your life more times than you can co—" He was cut off by a loud bang coming from the parlor and the call, "Harry? Hey, Harry?" Before Snape could react, Harry shoved him into the pantry and slammed the door behind him. Ron Weasley wandered into the kitchen. "Harry, do we have any flour? Mum wanted to bake cookies." He reached toward the pantry handle.

"NO!" Ron looked at Harry like he'd grown a second head. "I mean, no. We're completely out of flour. Out of food entirely, actually. Why don't you go back to the Burrow? I'll meet you there!" Harry finished breathlessly. Ron kept staring at him.

"Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yes! I mean, no." Harry acted as grave as possible. "Hermione came calling today. She looked sick. Or pregnant," Ron's eyebrows shot up. "You should go talk to her!"

"I saw her earlier today, she didn't say—"

"Go talk to her, really, Ron, who knows what could be happening!"

Ron stared at him for a long time before finally saying, "All right, I guess." He looked like he was about ready to go, but then said, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Harry suddenly felt a bit guilty. He probably shouldn't have told Ron that Hermione was pregnant. "I know. That's what mates are for, right?" Ron smiled, turned on the spot, and was gone with a bang. It took Snape about a second to step out of the pantry, laughing like a madman. Huh, twice in a day.

"Potter, you are quite possibly the worst liar I've ever seen."

Harry fought back the urge to push him back into the pantry. "You can stay in the attic. If anyone finds you, I'll tell them I had no idea you were in my house."

Snape smirked. "What a great auror they'll think of you then."


	2. Dinner and a Show

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><p>Even with Snape safely hidden in his attic and every protective charm placed over his home, Harry still hesitated to leave. Maybe he just didn't trust Snape with all of his things. Or maybe he'd remembered what a typical night at the Burrow was like.<p>

For Harry, dinner at the Burrow was always…interesting. To say the least. Within the last two months, the Weasleys had witnessed a sudden spike in popularity that had led to an influx of dinner guests. The guests ranged from delightful (Hagrid, Luna, and Neville all stopped by at least once a month) to horrifically awkward (why would the Changs even _want _to come for dinner?). Tonight was looking to be somewhere in the middle of the scale; when Harry walked in, he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall sitting at the table along with Percy, George, and Arthur. Harry didn't mind Kingsley or McGonagall, but he was rather worried that he might blurt out the events of the afternoon.

"Oh, Harry!" Molly Weasley threw her arms around Harry in a bone-crushing hug. She did this every time Harry visited, usually four or five times a week.

"Hi," gasped Harry, quickly disentangling himself from Mrs. Weasley's arms.

Mrs. Weasley continued to beam at him. "Why don't you have a seat with Professor McGonagall and," she swelled with pride, "the Minister."

"Kingsley," Kingsley corrected under his breath. Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, but instead bustled out of the kitchen with an armful of plates.

Harry took a seat next to Percy and across from McGonagall. He regretted this decision almost instantly. Even though Harry had always been a decent transfiguration student and had saved the world from Voldemort, he still felt as though McGonagall were judging him the moment her cool gaze flicked to his face. He knew he had no reason to still be afraid of her, but her cold stare wasn't exactly comforting. As inconspicuously as possible, Harry ran the back of his hand across his cheek.

Sitting next to Percy had also been a mistake. He had somehow managed to retain his job at the Ministry, despite having worked under many dark wizards and having quit last May. Harry had no idea what his job was, and he couldn't care less. Even so, Percy hadn't stopped talking since Harry sat down.

"Now, as I was saying, Harry, Waters and I are working on this really _enlightening _new project. It's _fascinating, _really. We think it's going to change the whole way the Ministry runs. Have you met Sellick Waters, Harry? I think you'd really like him; he's a good chap if there ever were once. In fact, just the other day I was talking to William Williams and he said—"

Almost against his will, Harry snorted loud enough that Kingsley and Mr. Weasley stopped their conversation and stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Percy said stiffly, "did I make a joke?"

"No, sorry. It's just," Harry glanced over at Kingsley and Mr. Weasley, but the two had fallen back into conversation, "_William Williams?_"

"Yes. It's a family name." Harry was about to make a mad attempt to explain himself—or perhaps a mad dash to the door—when he was spared by Ginny Weasley's walking in. Actually, she didn't walk; she _strutted _in, wearing a very short skirt.

"Well," she looked Harry straight in the eye and raised an eyebrow, "it looks like Mum's favorite son finally stopped by for dinner."

"Nonsense, Ginny, you know I've been here all week," Percy replied, throwing what Harry guessed was a loving look at his mother.

Ginny ignored him. She circled the table slowly and looked about ready to take a seat in Harry's lap when McGonagall loudly cleared her throat and said, "Miss Weasley, aren't your legs a bit cold?" Ginny chose the chair next to Harry. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not at all." She ran a hand over Harry's arm as if she were totally oblivious to her professor, the Minister of Magic, and her family. Harry was very, _very _glad that Mrs. Weasley had left the room and Ron had yet to arrive. "In fact," she leaned in close to Harry's ear, "I'm a little _hot_. I thought I might take a swim in the pond tonight. Care to join me?"

"I—I don't—I," the room had gone uncomfortably quiet. Only Kingsley and Mr. Weasley still carried on their conversation in low tones. George, who had been nearly silent the whole time, elbowed his father sharply in the ribs. Mr. Weasley glanced up. "What? What is it?" George looked pointedly at Ginny. "Ah. Ginny, go put some trousers on."

Ginny glared at her brother then stormed off, muttering, "You never let me do anything."

Ginny had been like this since May. Apparently, girls were attracted to boys who fought dark wizards. Who knew? Anyway, ever since then, Ginny couldn't—or wouldn't—keep her hands off Harry. It didn't matter where: garden parties, restaurants, funerals even! Harry found a bit unsettling to be sitting around weeping friends and family and suddenly feel a hand creeping up his leg. Not that he didn't like it! No, he loved Ginny, but there had to be limits. Especially at the Burrow. _Especially _after Arthur had found the two in a compromising position and decided that perhaps Harry and Ron needed their own place, far away from his only daughter.

Not to mention that Harry _really _didn't want to have another sex talk with Mr. Weasley.

The room was completely silent until Kingsley finally said, "What was it you were saying about the Snape investigation Arthur?" Harry's ears perked up.

Mr. Weasley wiped in his glasses before replying, "I was saying that it's a waste of the Ministry's time and energy. He's dead, Kingsley." He tossed a glance across the table. "Harry wouldn't lie."

"Be that as it may—"

"Wait," interrupted Harry, "you're still looking for Snape?"

Kingsley smiled a bit ruefully. "Not quite as seriously as everyone thinks. Certainly not seriously enough to drain Ministry resources," he shot a glance toward Arthur.

"Then why do you keep looking?"

"Harry, Snape was a known murderer. Regardless of what you told us, he still killed Dumbledore, he cavorted with Death Eaters, and he let Hogwarts turn into a madhouse. Students died under his watch; the people won't rest until we produce a body."

"He was eaten by a snake, Kingsley."

"That's not quite…" Harry shook his head. "What would happen if he turned up alive? Would he get a trial? A fair one?"

"He would probably get two to three years in Azkaban. Nothing major, but enough to make the public think he'd been adequately punished."

"Nothing major? Two _days _in Azkaban is enough to destroy a man. If I—" Harry realized he was standing, and that he'd once again managed to make the room go completely silent. Awkwardly, Harry eased himself back into his chair. Kingsley coughed, and the room was silent for several minutes until Mrs. Weasley finally bustled back in.

"Dinner time!" she called, carrying two bowls of steaming soup. She looked around the quiet room. "What's going on in here? Where are Ginny and Ron?"

As if on cue, a door banged open, and Ron stormed in. A sheepish-looking Hermione followed in tow. "You are the biggest _prat _the world has ever seen!" he yelled.

"Now Ron, what a horrible thing to say to Percy," George deadpanned, though no one heard him over the commotion surrounding Ron's entrance. Mrs. Weasley jumped and spilled both bowls of soup down Kingsley's front, causing both of them to shriek. Percy leaped hard enough for him knock down all his cutlery and end up on the floor with it. Ron charged over to Harry. Mr. Weasley wiped his glasses again. Professor McGonagall stood up.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt this lovely dinner, but may I please see Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley privately?" She looked over at Mrs. Weasley, and added apologetically, "It won't take more than a few minutes." Although Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, she still nodded. McGonagall led the two boys, Ron with his hands clenched into fists by his sides, into a small sitting room. Before she took a seat, she turned to Ron and hissed, "Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for keeping us late."

In that moment, Harry felt all of his latent fears of McGonagall become justified.


	3. Dysfunction Junction

**Sorry for the lack of updates; real life got in the way. But thank you for the reviews! I'm going to try and make my updates more regular now!**

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><p>Harry heard Ron swallow loudly as the two made their way into the sitting area. They hadn't even sat down when McGonagall said, "I have some bad news for you two." Horrifying scenarios flickered through Harry's head. Hagrid had been killed by giants, and Harry had to give the eulogy. Or one of Flitwick's experimental charms had backfired terribly, and Harry had to give the eulogy. Or McGonagall had discovered she was dying and wanted Harry to give the eulogy.<p>

"Who's dead?" asked Ron. McGonagall stared blankly at him for a moment and then smiled.

"Oh no, Mr. Weasley. It's nothing like that." Her smile faded and she returned to the strict disciplinarian Harry knew. "Now, as far as I know, you are still interested in becoming Aurors, correct?"

"Yes" they replied together.

"Then I do have some rather disappointing news for you." Oh gods, they were dissolving the Auror program, and Harry had to give the eulogy. "I'm afraid that neither of you have completed the N.E.W.T.s necessary for such employment. Now, you've shown enough proficiency in—"

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "We killed Voldemort."

McGonagall looked at him for quite a long time before saying, "I am quite aware, Mr. Potter. However, the Ministry requires—"

"I mean, obviously we can defend ourselves against dark wizards. I don't really see—"

"Mr. Potter, would you be able to convincingly disguise yourself as a black female, should the need arise?"

"Well, I—"

"Can you differentiate between a natural and artificial bezoar through sight alone?"

"I didn't—"

"There are no retakes on the Auror exam, Mr. Potter." McGonagall peered at him from over her spectacles. "If you are not prepared the day you take it, you risk spending the rest of your life behind a desk. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry dropped his eyes to the floor, shuffled his feet, and felt very small. He noticed Ron was doing the same thing. "Yes," they both finally muttered.

"Excellent. There are several other students preparing to take the N.E.W.T. exams. Ms. Granger is nearly completely ready, I believe. She'll take the exams in September. However, the rest of the interested students are meeting at Mr. Longbottom's flat next Tuesday." She rose. "Now then, let's eat."

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><p>Despite being filled with Mrs. Weasley's five-course meal, Harry's stomach was growling and twisting into knots by the time he and Ron returned home. Ron's anger had worn off halfway through the soup course, and by dessert everyone was laughing and having a good time. Well, everyone except Harry, whose mind was on the old man he was hiding in his house. By the time he and Ron apparated home, Harry's underarms were soaked with sweat, and his heart was hammering nearly as hard as it had when he faced Voldemort. Even Ron was starting to notice.<p>

"Alright mate?" he asked as Harry's fingers trembled on the doorknob. Ron had been his best friend for nearly eight years, and he hated lying to him. On the other hand, Ron probably wouldn't take too kindly to a former Death Eater living in their home, and Harry wasn't sure Snape had taken the time to stay hidden.

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "Look, Ron, maybe you should stay out here. I mean, I'm not great at protective spells, and I think I saw a shadow in the living room, or something."

"Hey, I'm just as good at dueling as you are!" Ron's ears turned pink.

"I know, I know," Harry backtracked. "It's just, you have Hermione and a family…" The pink spread over Ron's face.

"She's not _pregnant _Harry! Honestly! I don't why you keep saying these things! Gods, Mum already thinks she has to have a talk with the Grangers…"

"I didn't mean—"

"Look, I'm going to bed," he pushed past Harry and through the door, just in time to hear a loud _clang _come from the kitchen. From their point in the hallway, both Harry and Ron could see, clear as day, Severus Snape picking up a mixing bowl. Ron was silent for a few long, painful seconds; then he finally he said, "Good. You finally got a maid." Both Harry's and Snape's jaws dropped. Harry hadn't noticed it before, but from more than few feet away, Snape really didn't look like Snape. He was thinner, his hair was longer, and the beginning of a beard was taking shape on his jaw. He looked more like a tramp than a maid, but Harry was still thanking every god he could think of that Snape hadn't shaved.

"Er, I'm sorry, do you prefer butler?" Snape kept staring, so Ron kept talking. "Or, well, what's your name?" Snape shut his mouth, turned on his heel, and went back to whatever the hell he was doing in the kitchen. Ron turned back to Harry and shrugged. "I guess I can't be too mad at you. I've been getting tired of takeaway." He started walking upstairs. "'Night Harry."

Harry finally swallowed. "Goodnight Ron." When he heard Ron's door open and close, Harry walked into the kitchen as calmly as he could, turned to Snape, and asked, _"What. The hell. Are you doing?"_

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Cooking."

"What?"

"Cooking, Potter. I'm not shocked you haven't heard of it. It's a bit like Potions, you see, and I know that was never your strong suit."

"You're damn lucky Ron has bad eyes." Snape's eyebrows climbed toward his greasy hairline. "It doesn't matter what I say, you know? He still blames you. For Fred, for Remus and Tonks, for everything."

"So do a lot of people. You will be _shocked_ to learn that your word isn't always law in the eyes of the Wizarding World."

"That's fine, but you know I might not be able to stop him if he figures out who our new 'butler' is. Understand?"

"Yes," Snape rolled his eyes. "I should hope I can protect myself should _Weasley _attack."

"Look, I'm doing you a favor—" Snape's black eyes flashed.

"You left me for dead, Potter. After I had spent my entire life protecting you, you didn't even bother to come back."

The knots that had loosened after Ron said goodnight reappeared in full, guilty, force. "I don't owe you anything," Harry stammered, feeling his face flush.

Snape placed the bowl on the new, faux-marble counter. "Keep telling yourself that. It will make you look like a true Gryffindor."


	4. The Butler Did It

**Thank you for the lovely reviews! You all are wonderful!**

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><p>There had been many cases in Harry's lifetime in which he wondered whether or not the day before had been real. Sometimes, like after he had destroyed Voldemort, he would keep his eyes clamped shut and he fingers crossed, dreading that the day before had all been a dream. Of course, he also had days when he pulled the bed-sheets over his head, curled his knees to his chest, and hoped with all his might that yesterday never happened. Typically he reserved such behavior for deaths. After Sirius' death, he had lain in bed covered in blankets for nearly two hours, until Ron shook him and confirmed his worst suspicions.<p>

_Typically,_ Harry reserved such behavior for deaths. However, today he wholeheartedly believed that curling up and praying to any god that would listen that _Severus Snape was_ please_ not living in his attic _was the best course of action. And yet, despite the blankets and the walls, Ron still managed to destroy the illusion.

"WHERE DO YOU COME FROM?" Harry heard Ron shout from the kitchen below. "I COME FROM AROUND HERE. MY PARENTS LIVE JUST A BIT AWAY. YOU SHOULD MEET THEM; THEY ARE VERY NICE." Harry wasn't sure why Ron was yelling. Perhaps he had gone deaf. Harry couldn't hear even a murmur of a response; maybe Ron had snapped and was going to spend the rest of his life babbling to himself. Harry finally worked up the courage to get out of bed and wander downstairs, listening to Ron yell, "I REALLY LIKE BLUEBERRY PANCAKES. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE PANCAKES? MY MUM COULD TEACH YOU." Although it pained Harry to admit it, part of him hoped that Ron truly had gone mad. It would probably be easier to send him off to St. Mungo's than to deal with Snape.

But alas, when Harry finally came into the kitchen he saw Snape sitting at their round wooden table, sipping coffee as if _this _were a typical morning for him. Ron was standing with one hand placed awkwardly on the chair across from Snape. His face was tinted slightly pink from the shouting. Before Harry could say a word, Ron pulled him aside.

"Harry, I think the new butler might be deaf." Ron seemed quite worried; he was rubbing his hands together and his eyes kept darting back and forth between Snape and Harry.

"Well, if he wasn't before, I'm certain he is now."

"I'm serious! Can we not keep him now? Are there rules?"

"Ron, we're not—"

CRACK.

Both boys whirled around, lunging in the direction of the noise. Harry reached for his wand, but realized too late that he had left his wand on the table beside his bed. He looked around frantically, trying to spot whoever had apparated into his kitchen, but the only person he saw was Snape, rubbing his lower back. When Snape noticed their attention, he muttered, "The attic floor's a bit hard, Potter."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You made him sleep on the _floor?_" he hissed to Harry. Before he could respond, Ron had rushed to the other side of the table, grabbed Snape's shoulders, and was trying to help him stand straight. "I know you're used to having money, Harry, but this is not the way you treat the servant class."

Snape jerked away sharply. "Don't touch me, Weasley." Apparently, he wasn't interested in maintaining the butler façade. A brief, disconcerted look crossed Ron's face, but it relaxed back into a smile after a few seconds. Remarkably, Ron _still _didn't seem to notice anything unusual, even though yesterday's thin disguise had faded, and a man who looked absolutely identical to their former Potions professor was standing less than two feet away from him.

"I'm going upstairs to make up the third bedroom," Ron said pointedly and with a Hermione-like air of superiority. "Because this man is more than a butler; he is our _guest._"

Harry waited until Ron left the room before he slid into a chair with a loud, exaggerated groan. "Can't you just leave?"

Snape straightened his spine and took another sip of coffee. "No."

"I will find you a flat. Gods, I'll even pay your rent. But _please, _I don't know how much longer Ron's going to believe that you're our butler."

"No."

"Why not?" Harry knew he was whinging now. He was being incredibly immature, yes, but damn it, he wanted Snape gone.

"I've no identification, no money, and in our world I'm a wanted man presumed dead." He said all of this without looking up from his coffee. Harry paused for a moment. Snape definitely wouldn't be able to get a flat in the muggle world without any I.D., references, or job, and most Wizarding establishments would probably pause when a well-known, allegedly dead man appeared on their stoop. He began to grasp at straws.

"What about the Malfoys?" Snape, somehow, managed to laugh without smiling. It was a bit unsettling, really.

"Potter even I wouldn't touch that family with a ten-foot pole right now." Harry nodded. It had been a stupid suggestion. Every newspaper and gossip magazine in the country, and possibly in all of Europe, had latched on to the juicy story of the Malfoys descent from Wizarding royalty to rags. After Voldemort fell, the Malfoys, along with several other prominent Death Eater families, were forced to pay reparations. Some, like Lucius and Narcissa, had been charged with hundreds of millions of galleons of damage. Every day there were stories splashed on newspapers and magazines: "Narcissa Malfoy sells heirloom engagement ring to pay off debt to nation" or "Traitorous family forced to leave spacious manor, move into London flat." Harry couldn't help feeling slightly bad; Narcissa had saved his life, after all. But his story kept her family out of Azkaban, so his guilt was somewhat limited.

"I'm staying here," Snape said so quietly that it made Harry jump. It seemed like he had just now realized the truth: He was stuck with one of his least favorite people in the world. "Until I find something better, this is where I have to live."

Snape was making Harry very uncomfortable; he had never thought he was the man's last resort. When the tension finally became too thick, Harry said the first thing which came to mind (which of course was moderately stupid): "Well then, if you're going to stay here, you'll have to earn your keep. I like my coffee black and my bacon crispy." When he realized he sounded a bit like a spoiled idiot, Harry got up, turned on his heel, and walked upstairs as quickly as possible.

Harry knew that even if Snape were acting as his butler, he couldn't stay here. Just like at the Weasleys, guests frequented his home as if it were a bed and breakfast, and Snape didn't seem willing to stay hidden. Someone would have to notice that a supposedly dead accused murderer was serving them tea, or at least skulking around in the shadows. And Harry knew that Ron was either going to come to his senses and attempt to kill Snape or become so deeply entrenched in denial that he needed to be institutionalized.

Harry knew that Hermione was the only person smart enough to deal with this situation, but he still wasn't sure how to tell her that Snape was living in his home and her boyfriend thought he was a butler. So he quickly scrawled a vague note:

_Hermione—_

_Please come by the house tomorrow afternoon. It's urgent._

_-Harry _

He tied the note to Pigwidgeon and sent him off. Then he closed his eyes and hoped that no one dared to pay a visit within the next twenty-four hours.


	5. Idea Bulb

**As always, thank you for the lovely reviews!**

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><p>A day later, Harry considered himself very lucky. Their only visitor had been the owl dropping off the <em>Daily Prophet<em>, Ron seemingly had yet to notice anything strange, and Pigwidgeon had returned carrying Hermione's affirmative reply. However, Snape had slept in the room next to Harry's and possibly used his shower, so perhaps "lucky" wasn't the right word.

Harry spent most of the morning trying to distract Ron. So far, the two had transfigured a few blades of grass into a bouquet of daisies for Hermione, accidentally broken three windows they had been trying to wash, and attempted to make lunch with the little food they had in the house (bread, butter, and…some sort of cheese?).

While Harry was distracting Ron, Snape was lurking in the kitchen. He hadn't said anything when their first batch of daisies had bright orange spots or when Ron cut his foot walking across the glass, but after Harry nearly burned off his eyebrows as he tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches, something in him must have snapped. He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbled something down, and slammed it on the countertop in front of Ron.

"What's this?" Ron said pleasantly. Snape was acting so belligerent that Harry simply had to believe Ron had gone mad. How else could he not realize how much their "butler" loathed them?

"Buy these, and stay away from the stove."

Ron nearly leapt with delight. "We've got Muggle money upstairs!" He ran off, and from the sound of it, he was taking the stairs two at a time. Definitely madness.

Harry started tending to his eyebrows. While he was trying to remember the hair-regrowth charm, he heard Snape mutter, "Absolute idiocy."

"I'm sorry?" Harry's wand slipped.

"Potter, how on earth did you two manage to defeat one of the most powerful wizards of all time, and you can't operate a _stove?_" Harry's eyebrows were growing quite rapidly now. He couldn't think of a response past "stoves and wizards are different." He assumed Snape already knew that though. Instead he said, "Hngh."

Snape looked over (at least Harry assumed he did; he couldn't see anything). Harry heard him sigh exasperatedly. "Give me your wand."

"It's okay, I've got this." Harry heard Ron, out in the foyer, loudly and enthusiastically greet Hermione. He also heard Snape walk over and felt him grab the wand. He muttered a counter-curse, and the excess hair fell to the ground. Ron was still chattering out in the hall.

"Look, I've got to head to the grocer, but Harry's in the kitchen with the new butler! You'll love him; he's a laugh!"

When Hermione walked into the kitchen, she let out a shriek, jumped backwards, and drew her wand.

"Hello, Miss Granger."

"Stay away from me," she spat, pointing her wand straight at his chest. "Whoever you are, stay away—"

"Hermione, it's okay. It's Snape. He's on our side, remember?" Harry really never thought he would ever have to persuade anyone—especially Hermione—that having Snape in their presence was a good thing.

"He's _dead._" She narrowed her eyes. "I'd bet a thousand galleons that this is an imposter."

"Miss Granger, I assure you that if I wanted to harm Potter, I'd have had every chance to do so in the past three days." Hermione didn't say anything, but she lowered her wand slightly.

"Tell me something only the real Severus Snape would know," she challenged.

"You spent your six years at Hogwarts obsessive-compulsively studying, doing work far beyond your years, and receiving some of the best marks Hogwarts have ever seen, but you still don't have the N.E.W.T.s to prove it." He smirked. "And it kills you on the inside." Hermione's jaw and wand dropped. "And your boyfriend is an imbecile." He flicked his eyes in Harry's direction. "Him too."

Hermione stared at him for what felt like several minutes. Finally she sighed, turned to Harry, and said, "Severus Snape is living in your house."

"I know."

"You can't stay here," she said, looking back at Snape. "You know that, right? You're putting everybody at risk just by existing." Snape, however, had opened up the _Prophet_ and begun to read. Harry could see the headline, "Narcissa Malfoy supporting family by making over Muggles!" Hermione planted her fists on her hips. "Professor Snape! Are you listening? This is serious!"

Snape smirked. "Miss Granger, I admire your tenacity, but I'm afraid you're just about as justified in putting me on the street as Potter. You see, if it weren't for me, Potter here would have fallen from his broom and broken his neck before he'd won his first Quidditch match."

Neither Harry nor Hermione could really respond to this. Instead, Harry tried to look anywhere else in the kitchen than Snape. A small article, nearly shoved off the front page of the _Prophet _by the Malfoy story, caught his eye. "'Professors wanted'" he read aloud, drawing both Snape's and Hermione's attention. "'Qualified professionals in the fields of Muggle Studies, Transfiguration, or Defense Against the Dark Arts who are interested in bringing their skills to Hogwarts should contact Minerva McGonagall, headmistress.' Huh, I wasn't even sure Hogwarts would open this year…"

Hermione snorted. "If it was open last year, you shouldn't be surprised it's open now."

"You know, this could be just the opportunity we were looking for!" Snape and Hermione stared. "You could apply for your old job back! Move back into the castle!"

"Are you ins—"

"No, just listen! You could ask McGonagall to disguise you, and you could be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You could start a new life!"

"Any plan that hinges on my friendship with Minerva is terrible," Snape said. "And if I never have to teach another mindless student until the day I die, _it will be too soon_."

Hermione sighed, sounding nearly as exasperated as Snape had. "Look, Harry, I have to go to work." Hermione had been restoring some ancient texts in the Hogwarts' library that summer. "I can come back on Wednesday, but please try to think of a decent plan before then." With another annoyed sigh, she was gone.

* * *

><p>Although Harry tried to think of a new plan, he didn't have much time. When he was at home, he spent almost all day preventing Ron from realizing their "butler's" identity. And when Tuesday came around, he and Ron had to leave their home for the Pair-of-Elles Lanes out near Diagon Alley. The Pair-of-Elles Lanes were part of a small Wizarding neighborhood, predominantly filled by recent Hogwarts graduates. Harry and Ron had already visited Hermione's flat out there, but today they were headed to visit Neville and have their first N.E.W.T. preparation class.<p>

Harry wasn't thrilled about the classes, but he figured he couldn't live off his inheritance forever. He was also desperate to see some of his former classmates. Neville had visited the Burrow once, and he hadn't seen Seamus or Dean since May.

Unfortunately, Harry stopped looking forward to seeing his old friends the moment Neville opened the door and he found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.


	6. Class Reunion

**Thank you for the reviews! As always you all are lovely!**

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><p>For the first time since the night he defeated Voldemort, Harry was looking at Draco Malfoy. He was clearly no longer the bully Harry remembered. His hair was much longer and quite untidy, and his robes were frayed around the edges. He also seemed to be concentrating quite hard on something in the vicinity of Harry's left shoulder.<p>

Harry snuck a quick look at Ron. For once his friend looked neither disgusted nor angered by Malfoy. Instead, an odd mix of shock and pity had washed over his features.

Finally, after what felt like several Neville asked, "Harry—um—why aren't you coming in?" Harry had nearly forgotten about Neville; he was so possessed by his ex-nemesis. He looked at his friend guiltily and glanced back at Draco. Neville suddenly became very stern. "Now, there will be none of that. What's past is past, and we're all friends here. All right?"

Harry and Ron both muttered a quick "All right," and Ron offered Malfoy a curt nod. Malfoy mumbled something that may have been "fine," but might also have been a curse. Harry couldn't tell, and he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Neville was already ushering the three boys into his flat.

Neville's flat seemed very Neville-ish. Harry couldn't take a step without seeing a potted plant. A large, half-finished puzzle was strewn over the table. Apparently Neville didn't have any magnets, so all of his photos were taped to his refrigerator; Harry's eyes were especially drawn to a bright photo of Neville and Luna holding hands by a lake. The whole flat smelled like cookies. Harry loved it immediately.

His heart soared even higher when they walked into the sitting room. The room was stuffed with old chairs, more plants, and several former classmates. Seamus and Dean waved excitedly from their places on an old paisley sofa. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley were squished into an old orange armchair, and Hannah Abbott was perched on one of the arms. They all grinned when Harry and Ron walked in the room—although when Ernie caught sight of Malfoy his face fell slightly. Three girls on a second couch—Parvati and Padma Patil and a black girl with long dark hair whom Harry didn't know but thought was in Ravenclaw—all burst into giggles. Harry noticed Padma was doing her best not to look at Ron. Blaise Zabini was standing in a corner looking at the ceiling. A very tall girl with hunched shoulders was standing next to him, looking at the floor, her face hidden by long, dirty-blonde hair.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Hey Harry," everyone except the Slytherins replied. The girls on the couch kept giggling. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron looking moderately panicked. His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for something. "Lavender isn't here, Ron," Parvati said before the girls dissolved into all-out laughter. Ron turned red, but he looked incredibly relieved as he sat down on a large tartan ottoman. Grinning, Harry sat down next to him. Neville stood awkwardly at the front of the room.

"Well, um, McGonagall said she might be a bit late, interviews and all…" he trailed off, looking a bit hopeless. "So…why don't we play a game?"

"A game," Blaise said skeptically.

"Er, what else would you call it? You know, I say, 'I'm Neville, and I like puzzles.' We get to know each other." The room was so silent Harry could hear a leaky faucet the next flat over. Finally, Ron stood up and said, "I'm Ron, and I like to play chess."

Ron had obviously hoped this would set off a train of sharing. It didn't. Neville looked around desperately. "You," he said, pointing at the girl in the back. She looked up, and Harry recognized her as one of Pansy Parkinson's old friends. "What's your name?"

"Daphne," she muttered. "I like to…" she mumbled something unintelligible.

"Sorry?"

"Draw." She repeated, her eyes still on the floor. Dean looked over at her. "Hey, me too!" He flashed her a smile that she didn't return. The silence resumed.

Harry noticed Neville was staring at him quite desperately. He stood. "I'm Harry and I…" _Have a murderer hiding in my spare bedroom. Feel like I shouldn't have to introduce myself. Hate public speaking. _This would have been a great time for McGonagall to come and interrupt, but Harry seemed on his own. "Like to swim," he finished weakly. It wasn't a complete lie; he didn't _dislike _swimming. He just hadn't had much experience with it.

The girl next to the Patils introduced herself as Mandy Brocklehurst and said she played tennis, and Hannah Abbott was halfway through introducing herself when Professor McGonagall walked straight into the room. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said brusquely. She was carrying a small scarlet bag, out of which she began pulling large textbooks before anyone could even say hello. "As I'm sure you've all noticed," she said as she passed out the huge tomes, "this isn't even close to the number of students with whom you would have finished Hogwarts. Some students will not be taking the N.E.W.T.s," Harry thought immediately of Goyle, "and some are preparing privately. The rest I have divided." She glanced around the room with a small smile. "You may notice that this a bit of a mixed group." Her eyes flicked from Harry and Ron to the Slytherins in the corner. "Things are going to change at Hogwarts. I want stronger relationships between the Houses, and I'm starting here." She had finished passing around the books, and Harry was now balancing on his knees a stack of books that nearly reached his chin.

"The N.E.W.T.s will be offered the final week of September." A few people let out surprised gasps. That gave them less than three months' time. McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "If you do not consider yourself prepared by that time, you are free to wait until May. But do remember that once you have taken the N.E.W.T.s, you cannot take them again. Now, I have marked off some reading for you all, but today we start what is—in my humble opinion—the most difficult subject: Transfiguration. Partner up!"

Harry spent the next several hours trying to give Ron long, blonde hair, and feeling a strange burning in his scalp when Ron tried to do the same. Although he managed to grow Ron's hair several inches, it was still bright red, which made him look disturbingly like Ginny. After three hours, McGonagall finally said, "Stop," and Harry got a good look around the room. Seamus was sporting bright red curls and looking at Neville, stunned. Daphne and Dean had partnered, and she had given him quite a large nose and was looking rather pleased with herself. Neither Malfoy nor Blaise looked any different, although Harry privately hoped they'd shrunken each other's egos. McGonagall looked simply exasperated.

"That's enough for today. Please read. And practice." She seemed like she needed some of Trelawney's sherry. Before everyone could file out, she said something that caught Harry quite off guard. "Mr. Potter, you and Mr. Weasley are renting a house, correct?" Harry nodded without thinking. "Good. Saturday's practice will be held at two-thirty at Mr. Potter's home. I'm sorry Mr. Longbottom, but if we continue practicing here someone may lose an eye. And we wouldn't want _that_," she said mostly to herself.

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><p>When Ron and Harry finally apparated home, all Harry wanted to do was curl up and sleep and never think about N.E.W.T.s again. But alas, Snape was waiting for them in the kitchen.<p>

"You have a letter," he said coolly. "And your owl's dead."

"Errol!" Ron ran to the kitchen to cradle what looked like a dust bunny.

"Are you reading our mail?" asked Harry when Snape handed him the opened letter.

Snape's mouth turned up at the corners. "Possibly."

"You are sacked," Harry said. "Really. You can't live here anymore." For a moment, Snape looked like he might actually leave, but this he smirked and turned toward the stairs, saying, "Really, Potter, you're going to have to do better than that."


	7. Go Out with a Smile

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Harry didn't bother to follow Snape upstairs. He knew that his old professor wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, no matter how hard he argued. However, he also knew that Snape would do whatever possible to avoid human interaction, so he wasn't too worried about next Saturday's class. So, instead of fretting over Snape, Harry decided to see how Ron was coping with Errol.

Harry wasn't sure how Ron would deal with the death of a pet. He had been quite distressed when he found out Scabbers was really Peter Pettigrew in disguise. Then again, everyone was distressed over that. It's quite a shock when the rat that used to sleep in your bedroom turns out to have been a middle-aged man. Surprisingly, when Harry walked into the kitchen, Ron did not seem the least bit upset. In fact, he seemed fairly content eating cookies and ignoring the pile of grey feathers on the table. "The butler made us cookies!" he said when he saw Harry.

"I see that." Harry nudged the owl with his wand. It was definitely dead. "Your mum invited us to dinner."

"Tonight?" asked Ron through a mouthful of cookies.

"Yeah." If Ron wasn't going to get distressed over the owl, Harry certainly wouldn't either. "Will your parents be upset about Errol?"

"I don't think so," Ron said with a shrug. "I mean, they won't be too happy about buying a new one, but Errol was pretty old. I think he was a wedding present."

The moment Harry and Ron apparated into the Burrow, they were plunged into chaos. Harry had never seen so many people packed into the Weasley's home before, and the sight was dizzying. Luna Lovegood was sprawled out on the floor, having her hair braided by Ginny. George and Lee Jordan were running about, shooting fireworks at each other from the tips of their wands. Harry spotted Hermione and Fleur in a corner; Fleur looked like she was lecturing Hermione on proper hair care techniques. Somewhere, a baby was crying, and at least half a dozen red-haired children were running around, making Harry wonder if he'd accidentally wandered into a family reunion. He tried to make his way to the kitchen to ask, but the table had been expanded so much that it filled the entire room.

"What's going on here?" he muttered into Ron's ear. But Ron looked just as flabbergasted, especially when a small boy crashed into him, and Errol fell to the ground, shook himself, and flew away. Harry and Ron stared, dumbfounded, until someone tapped them on the shoulders.

"Didn't think you'd get away without saying hello, did you?" Hermione grinned at them before kissing Harry on the cheek and Ron on the lips. "And you couldn't possibly have saved me from Fleur?"

"Oh I, er…the bird and all, um…hi, Hermione." Hermione laughed and looped her arm through Ron's.

"Did your mum tell you what her big surprise is?" Harry and Ron both stared at her. "The one on the invitation? Honestly, you two…" She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. "Ron, will you get us some seats?" Ron nodded happily and left for the kitchen. The moment he was gone, Hermione slapped Harry sharply on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Harry rubbed the abused patch of skin.

"Did you figure out what you're doing with Snape?" she hissed.

"No."

"That's what it was for." Luckily, before Hermione could hit him again, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began ushering everyone into the kitchen. Ron had secured three seats between Luna and Neville and Andromeda Tonks, who was holding a whimpering, orange-haired Teddy Lupin. Harry often figured that Andromeda could be pretty if she didn't look so much like her late sister Bellatrix. She briefly turned her cool eyes to Harry, but she focused her attention on shushing Teddy.

The table was overloaded with food: huge cauldrons of soup, baskets stuffed with bread, and enormous pitchers of pumpkin juice. Harry felt more like he was at a Hogwarts feast than a family dinner, especially when Hagrid sat down across from him, nearly taking up three seats, and waved merrily.

Harry was sure they'd been brought here for a reason, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Weasley seemed interested in telling them. Instead, the whole table rattled as friends and family ladled out steaming soup. Harry thought Mrs. Weasley might make an announcement when she sat down, but instead she just said, "Here, Andromeda, give him to me," and began to quiet Teddy.

"I hope you've been well, Harry," Andromeda said quietly. Harry noticed that she looked more tired than usual, and there were new lines around her eyes and mouth.

"I—I have." Harry was never quite comfortable when talking to Andromeda. "And you?"

"I have," she took a sip of pumpkin juice. "I've been meaning to ask you Harry, if you could watch Teddy this weekend."

"Er." Harry had only babysat his godson once, and that was back when he was living at the Burrow. He had no idea how to take care of an infant.

"It will only be for a few hours. I'm interviewing for the Transfiguration position at Hogwarts."

"Oh, Bill's interviewing for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job!" Ron said through a mouthful of bread. Andromeda raised her eyebrows. Harry often had the feeling that she just didn't like Ron. "Lovely."

"We'd be glad to watch him," Ron answered before Harry could say anything. Andromeda didn't look convinced; her lips had gone quite thin. "Hermione can help us, if you'd like," Ron suggested. "She knows loads about babies."

Hermione's mouth fell open, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Ron, what on _earth _gives you the idea I know anything about taking care of an infant?" she asked defiantly. Ron turned bright red.

"Oh—er—it isn't—it's not because you're a _girl_—" she raised her eyebrows. "Although—ahem—you _are _a girl—but, well, you know _everything_; why wouldn't you know how to take care of a baby?" Hermione turned quite pink.

"Well—yes—I suppose I _can _help you," she was stuttering almost like Ron. "If that's okay with you, Andromeda." Andromeda smiled one of her small smiles.

"I suppose that's fine. I'll drop him off on Saturday, at ten." Something in the back of Harry's mind tugged at him. He knew Saturday wouldn't work—he _knew_—and he was close to figuring out why when a discussion a few seats down stole his focus completely.

"I'm not saying Snape was a _bad _person," Neville was telling Luna, "I just think he was a git when he was alive." Luna's grey eyes narrowed slightly, and she cocked her head.

"Snape isn't dead," she said simply. Harry nearly choked on his soup, and, from the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione go very white.

"Really?" Apparently Andromeda had been listening too. She had taken quite a liking to Luna, but her slight smile made Harry think she didn't believe the girl.

"Of course. He's living in the Forbidden Forest, with the centaurs. They take care of him." Harry was about to lunge across the table to ask Luna more questions, but Mrs. Weasley clinked her knife against her glass, and the table became very quiet.

"Before we eat dinner," she said with a wide smile, "I have some very good news." A hush fell over the entire table—even George and Lee, who had been discussing new inventory for the joke shop. "Today, I received some wonderful news from _Witch Weekly._" She held up a lurid pink magazine, and right on the front was a huge photo of "—Ron Weasley is the newest recipient of _Witch Weekly's _Most Charming Smile Award!"

Ron turned very, very red.


	8. Psycho Serum

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"Good morning, sunshine. Where's that prize-winning smile?" asked Harry the next day, when Ron trudged into their kitchen. He scowled and wordlessly grabbed a mug of coffee. "Oh, come off it. The least you can do is have a sense of humor about the whole thing."

"All I had were nightmares," Ron said darkly. His eyes had a faraway look to them, and he was clutching his mug to the breaking point. "George and Mum kept pinching my cheeks…all these middle aged women were grabbing me in alleys, asking me for autographs…"

"You're complaining about women throwing themselves at you?" Harry didn't even try to fight the grin that was spreading over his face. Ron didn't seem to hear him. He was staring into his coffee as if he hoped it would swallow him.

"Lockhart called me his protégé." Harry forced back a laugh, and Snape, who was sitting across from Ron, let out a loud snort from behind the _Prophet. _

"It's not funny," said Ron indignantly. "I've got a _girlfriend. _I can't have her thinking I'm going after all these witches' attention! What if she thinks I'm going to run around on her?"

"I honestly think Hermione's got better things on her mind," said Harry, finally letting out his laugh.

"And George! I've got work today—who knows what he'll do to me!" _Probably nothing, _Harry thought to himself. He hadn't noticed George laughing much at dinner yesterday. Harry didn't say so though; Ron was too far gone to think sensibly.

"I've got to go," he muttered, glancing at his watch. "If Hermione comes 'round, just tell her I'm not out with other women!"

Hermione did come around later that day, but Ron seemed to be the last thing on her mind. She was quite flushed and carrying a stack of parchment. "I can't stay long," she said breathlessly. "I've a meeting with McGonagall. Did you know there's a wizard in France writing groundbreaking legislation on elfish rights?" Harry didn't, but he hadn't thought of many plausible ways to get Snape out of his house, so he just let Hermione continue talking. "Not that I'd be able to help him—I'm sure he has no time for an intern or even an assistant! But, well, it would be _brilliant_, wouldn't it?" Harry nodded vigorously, although he wasn't quite sure _what _would be brilliant. "But we can't worry about that right now," she said briskly. "How are you going to get Snape out of your house?"

"Er," Harry looked over at Snape, who didn't seem at all interested in helping him. "I thought maybe we could send him abroad?"

"No, no, that won't work at all," said Hermione quickly. "Other English-speaking countries—Australia, Canada, and the States especially—have gotten really strict on immigrant wizards. They don't want former Death Eaters trying to escape trial by going abroad."

"What about Europe?"

"Oh Harry, you know he would stick out like a sore thumb if he couldn't speak the language!" She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry felt a bit stupid, assuming wizards would speak English in all other countries. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "Do you have any other ideas?" Harry didn't say anything, and Snape and Hermione rolled their eyes. "Honestly, Harry…" Hermione shuffled through her stack of parchment. "Luckily, I compiled a list of people who weren't _specifically _harmed by Snape in the past few years."

Harry scanned over the list of names. It was quite short. _Aberforth Dumbledore…Ludo Bagman…Bill Williams..._ "Three people?"

"You didn't really make any friends last year," Hermione said darkly in Snape's direction. He shrugged. "And unless _you _have any better ideas, you're stuck here." He shrugged again.

"Fine," snapped Harry. "But we've got people coming over Saturday, and I expect you to stay hidden." Harry felt a twinge of guilt with his words; he was suddenly reminding himself of Vernon Dursley.

Harry felt as though very little time had passed between Hermione's visits when she reappeared in his home that Saturday. Snape, thankfully, had gone back to his room after breakfast, and by the time Andromeda came by, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were simply waiting in the kitchen.

"I'll be late," she said, as she handed Hermione the squirming infant. From the look on her face, Harry was nearly sure that Ron's expectations for Hermione were a bit too high. "All I've heard about these interviews is that they're going long. Hopefully I'll be back by three."

"We're having people over," said Harry distractedly as he watched Teddy yank out a bit of Hermione's hair. "N.E.W.T. lessons."

"Anyone I know?"

"Well, there's Neville Longbottom; everyone knows him, of course. And Malfoy—um, Draco…"

"Yes, my nephew." She paused, and Harry thought that she looked like she was debating something in her head. Slowly, she asked, "Does he seem well?"

"He's less of a prat," said Ron. Andromeda raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, but, well, he is! The last time we saw him he didn't say anything about us or my family or Muggle-borns…"

"Hmm," she absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "His father's gone a bit mad. He talks about taking down the Ministry, getting his old life back. He doesn't quite like living like the lower-class," she said with a small smile. "Narcissa's carrying on of course, she always does, but I thought Draco would end up more like his father."

"Have you visited them?" Hermione struggled to ask while she kept Teddy away from her necklace.

"Of course I have. As much as it _pains _Lucius to admit, we are family." She paused, her eyebrows knitting together. "But perhaps you, Harry, should avoid Draco until things calm down. The apple often doesn't fall far from the tree."

Harry meant to heed Andromeda's advice, but McGonagall made it rather difficult when she paired the two boys together to practice making the Elixir of Life.

"I told you I was encouraging diversity," she said simply when she saw the boys' distraught expressions. "I don't know why no one took me seriously." Around the room, Harry could see several other pairs of uncomfortable-looking students. Ron and Padma were trying very hard not to look at each other. Blaise had already accidentally spilled liquid fluxweed all over Parvati, and now he had resorted to pouting. Mandy Brocklehurst was looking a bit awkward while Neville talked to her excitedly about his most recent date with Luna Lovegood. Dean and Daphne, on the other hand, both looked quite pleased to be partners. Dean was wearing a small smile while he chopped, and Daphne's cheeks were quite pink. Hermione was nowhere to be seen, as she had taken to the second floor after the doorbell had set Teddy off howling.

"Now, this potion can be quite useful for Healers and Aurors alike, but the smallest mistake—recut those roots, Longbottom!—can lead to certain, unavoidable death." McGonagall's eyes flickered in Neville's direction. His face had turned red, and he was frantically poring over his ginger root. Harry silently hoped that Mandy was good at potions, just in case they had to take samples.

After nearly an hour, Harry's potion—which was supposed to be a shimmering silver—had turned an awful salmon color. "I thought you were good at this," Draco grumbled, as he added another scoop of powdered unicorn horn.

"Hey, you were the one Snape was always praising," Harry hissed back. The potion was now letting off an odd smell, somewhat reminiscent of burning leaves.

"He's my _godfather_. Of course he's going to praise me." In the distance, Harry heard a door slam.

"Harry?" Andromeda called from the foyer.

"He's upstairs with Hermione!" Harry called back, not taking his eyes off his elixir. He stirred it twice, and it began to let off a strange hissing noise. He thought he heard McGonagall sigh.

However, what he thought he heard became much less important after what he actually heard: a long, high, piercing shriek.


	9. Conflict Ball

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><p>For a moment, time seemed to go in slow motion. The only sound Harry could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, and his vision slid out of focus. Then he vaguely heard someone ask what had happened, and when he saw McGonagall start to leave the room the spell was broken.<p>

"No!" he cried, taking off at a run. He hardly felt his arm smack against the cauldron or heard Malfoy's alarmed cry.

As aged as she was, McGonagall had still managed to get to the first floor landing by the time Harry caught up with her.

"Professor!" He grabbed her around the arm, knocking her glasses askew.

"Mr. Potter, what has gotten into you? Let go of me this instant!" She yanked her arm away from Harry.

"Professor," gasped Harry, "I—I've got it. It's my house. It's probably—probably just the baby. You don't need to worry." McGonagall gave Harry a very shrewd look before turning away.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, I am still going to investigate. However, as it is your house, you are welcome to accompany me." Harry held back a groan, and quickly muttered, _"Muffliato," _towards the kitchen—just in case.

Harry probably hadn't needed the spell; when he and McGonagall walked into the only open bedroom, all they could hear was a shocked silence. Harry was sure more than a minute had passed since the shriek, but everything in the room seemed to have frozen. Andromeda was standing with arms curled in close to her chest, her mouth open in a silent scream. Harry could just make out the sound of her sharp, shallow breathing. Snape was standing opposite her with Teddy asleep in his arms. Teddy looked more peaceful than Harry had ever seen him, but Snape seemed like he'd been hit with a Stunning Spell and was just waiting to fall. Hermione was sitting in a stiff-looking arm chair, her lips trembling and her eyes darting from Andromeda to Snape.

At first, Harry thought McGonagall had fallen into a similar trance; she hadn't moved from the threshold, and her jaw had gone slack.

"_Severus?"_ she finally said, sounding completely mystified.

"Yes," rasped Snape.

Andromeda let out another shriek—a much quieter one—and began backing towards the edge of the room. McGonagall moved forward, pulling her wand out of her robes. Her bewildered expression remained on her face as she cast a jet of green light at Snape. It hit him squarely in the chest, but nothing happened.

"It's me, Minerva."

Professor McGonagall began to shake quite horribly. She slowly backed away from Snape, keeping her wand raised. Then, when she reached the threshold, she turned on her heel and fled. Harry could hear her shouting, "Clear out, all of you!" and he heard the clatter of cauldrons and ingredients being rapidly gathered.

As this happened, Andromeda let out a strangled sound. "You—you're _dead._"

"Clearly, I am not," said Snape with a bit of a grim smile.

"No, no, you are. I saw your obituary. They said you were innocent, said you'd been on Dumbledore's side this whole time. They said you were a good man—_no good man fakes his own death!_"

"I didn't fake—"

"Severus," McGonagall had reappeared in the doorway, looking flushed, "who else knows?"

"Them," he jerked his head at Harry and nodded towards Hermione. "The centaurs." He swallowed, "The Lovegoods."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "The Lovegoods?"

"The girl found me after the centaurs had finished with me. Her father healed and helped disguise me."

McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thinner line than Harry had ever seen. "Do you have _any _idea what could have happened had you been caught? What can still happen?"

"I thought the boy cleared my name," Snape said softly, his eyes never leaving McGonagall's face.

"The—the boy!" she sputtered. "Severus, honestly! Not everyone is going to believe a teenager!" Harry made a noise of protest. After all, he wasn't exactly an average teenager. "And they're quite a bit more likely to forgive a dead man than one standing in the courtroom! Even then, you know, there are still people who flinch when they hear Sirius Black's name! And now you're going around putting all this burden on two eighteen-year-olds and Xenophilius Lovegood? Why—I haven't—never in my life!"

Snape was quite a strange sight. He was standing, mouth agape, cradling a magenta-haired baby, and, for the first time this summer, looking rather frightened. "Minerva, I—"

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said suddenly, "you've been repairing the old law texts, haven't you?" Hermione, whose spine had gone as straight as a pin, nodded. "Would there be a way for him to stand trial without being sent to prison?"

"So you believe me?" asked Harry, a bit impetuously. "You believe he's innocent, even though I'm the only one who can prove it, and I'm just a teenager." McGonagall looked very tired.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "I believe you. Miss Granger?"

"Well," she said in a strangely high voice, "he's already been tried as a Death Eater, so they couldn't do it _again_; that'd be double jeopardy, and Harry and Draco Malfoy are the only people who saw him kill Dumbledore and aren't in prison or dead." She paused, frowning. "But Harry's also the only one who saw his memories—which often aren't admissible evidence—and false death itself is a serious accusation, and the way you ran Hogwarts must have violated _The Student Protection Act of 1974_…"

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said through grit teeth, "is there or isn't there a way for him to reenter society?"

"I-I don't know," she said in a small voice. "There isn't really a precedent for this sort of thing. People don't return from the dead all too regularly."

McGonagall rubbed her eyes wearily. "This is absurd. Severus, you'll have to stay here until, well, I don't know what." She shook her head. "Don't let anyone know you're here. Andromeda, promise me you'll keep this quiet."

Andromeda no longer looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her eyes were very narrow, her face was very red, and a small muscle was jumping in her jaw. Her eyes were also completely focused on Snape; she didn't seem to hear McGonagall at all.

"Give me back my grandson." Her voice was dangerously low, almost like a growl. When Snape crossed the room and handed her the infant, she hissed, "Never—touch—him—again, you murdering—"

"Andromeda," McGonagall said with such force that Harry was briefly reminded of Dumbledore. Andromeda nodded slowly, cradling Teddy into her chest. McGonagall cast one final look around the room and disapparated.

"I should really follow her," Hermione said nervously. "I've been meaning to talk to her, about, um," Harry shot her a desperate look, "but, on the other hand, I guess I can stay a bit longer."

She, Harry, and Andromeda filed out of Snape's room. As the door closed behind them, Andromeda pulled Harry aside. She still looked livid. "Harry, I cannot _believe _you would leave Teddy with—"

"It's my fault!" Hermione looked ready to cry. "Don't yell at Harry, please! I couldn't get Teddy to stop crying, and—and Snape just _held _him, I didn't know what to do!"

Andromeda gave Hermione a very cold look and continued, "I don't care what you say, Harry, that man is the reason I lost my husband—_my daughter._ I don't have much family left; I'm protecting the only people still with me. Harry, I can't allow Teddy to be around you until I know he's gone."

Harry's head swam, and his knees felt very weak.

"But I'm his godfather!"

Andromeda gave him one final, cold look before she disapparated. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Harry, really, she's just angry."

"Hermione, do me a favor and shut up."


	10. Beneath Suspicion

**Just so you all know, the story should be completely posted by September!**

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><p>Harry and Hermione walked downstairs in stony silence. He knew she was glaring daggers at him, but he felt like he'd been through enough already today. All he wanted to do now was relax in his kitchen with some of Snape's chocolate chip cookies.<p>

Unfortunately for Harry, the kitchen was already occupied.

"It just isn't coming off!" Ron was saying to Draco Malfoy, who was covered in a thin layer of sticky mint-green goo. "What did you two _put _in this?"

"Do you need some help?" Hermione walked over and examined the goo. "Urgh! This smells like smoke! What was this supposed to be?"

"The Elixir of Life," Malfoy muttered, "obviously. Where's my aunt?"

"She left," Harry said, sliding resignedly into the chair across from Malfoy. "Why do you even care? I thought she was a blood traitor."

"She's my _aunt_, Potter. Didn't those Muggles ever teach you anything about family?" Harry thought it was a bit rich for Malfoy to be drawling superiorly when he was covered in potion. "Anyway, now's not exactly the time to be picky. Pansy laughed in my face the last time I tried to talk to her."

Harry raised his eyebrows, not because he thought Pansy was a decent human being, but because this was the longest conversation he'd had without Malfoy insulting him.

"And of course, dear old Daphne's still trying to set me up with her sister—damn it, Granger, that's my ear—I've been saying no for nearly five years now; you'd think she'd get the hint." Hermione, Ron, and Harry all exchanged awkward looks. They weren't exactly used to gossiping with Malfoy. "And what kind of name is 'Astoria' anyway?"

Harry really didn't know and really didn't want to answer. Instead, he changed the topic to the first thing on his mind. "So, er, Hermione, why did you need to talk to McGonagall?"

Hermione smiled brightly as she managed to remove a few square inches of goo. "Do you remember Léonard Dubois?" Harry didn't, and, from the blank look on his face, neither did Ron. "He works for Le Ministère français de la Magie; he writes legislation regarding the rights of magical non-humans. He's _really_ progressive." Harry wasn't sure what this meant, but obviously Hermione thought it was a good thing. She had stopped cleaning Malfoy and was staring off rather dreamily. "McGonagall wrote to him to see if I could work with him—oh Ron, don't give me that look, you could come too!" Ron had given her a very pouty look. "Not that I think anything will come from it, of course. I'm sure he's a very busy man."

Another silence settled over the table, and Harry could hear himself think again. Hermione and Ron _had_ been spending a lot of time together, but that was normal, right? And it was normal for her to invite him to France, wasn't it? It wasn't like they were… "Are you two engaged?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione dropped her wand.

"Engaged?" she asked with a strange, high laugh. "You're joking, right? Of course you are. Why would you even say that? There's no way we'd be engaged. That's hilarious, Harry." She let out another odd laugh. Ron was staring at her.

"I don't see what's so funny," he grumbled. "I think I'd make a good husband."

"Well, it's not about _that_ Ron. You'd make a great husband—not that I want to get married; I _don't _want to get married. We're too young, a-a-and we don't have _jobs_." Hermione was turning very pink.

"My parents were only eighteen when they got married."

"Times have changed, Ron."

"Ahem." Harry nearly jumped out of his chair. Snape was standing in kitchen's entryway. Ron took one look at him, cast a quick glare at Hermione, and stormed out, muttering something about needing a drink. "I don't mean to interrupt this little _lovers' spat_, but I need to know if…" They never found out what Snape wanted; the man had met eyes with Malfoy.

"Y-y-you're _dead_," Malfoy gasped as he started moving his seat backwards.

"I have had this conversation too many times today," Snape said. He leaned in, examining Malfoy. "What on earth are you covered in?"

"The Elixir of Life," Malfoy muttered much less sarcastically than he had before. In fact, the parts of his face that weren't green were turning bright red, while his eyes, Harry noticed, glittered with something he couldn't quite recognize.

"I do hope you don't plan on _passing_ these exams," Snape said with an impressively withering look.

Malfoy didn't say anything; he just kept his gaze on Snape, the same odd glint in his eye. "You're _really _Severus Snape?"

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. "Explain it to him, Potter. He's dense."

It took Harry nearly ten minutes to retell Snape's story; by the time he'd finished, the Potion had dried and Hermione was cracking it off onto the floor. Malfoy didn't seem to notice; he had been focusing raptly through the entire tale.

"Interesting," was all he said.

A few minutes later, after Malfoy had disapparated and Snape had retreated to his room, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "What on earth was that all about?"

"What?"

"You didn't notice the way Malfoy looked?" She shook her head, "_Honestly, _Harry." She seemed to be saying that a lot these days.

"No, I didn't," he said shortly. "Hey, are you really not going to marry Ron?"

"Harry, I'm not going to rush into anything and neither should you! My parents married young and look what happened to them."

"They're dentists."

"Exactly."

* * *

><p>The following two weeks were some of the most normal of Harry's life. Ron had been quick to make amends with Hermione, and he hadn't brought up marriage again. McGonagall had helpfully relocated the N.E.W.T. classes to Neville's flat, which led to a quick lesson in expansion charms after several spells had ricocheted off the low ceiling and tight walls. The tests were approaching faster than Harry had fathomed possible, and more nights than not he, Ron, and Hermione would gather in the kitchen to study. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts, especially when Snape would hover over their work and offer unwanted criticism.<p>

Harry had trouble accepting that everything was as stable as it was. Andromeda seemed to have kept quiet about Snape, and Ron had yet to realize he was there. Ginny was even less physical when she came over, saying that it wasn't fun if they weren't going to get in trouble.

When Harry protested, "but _I_ think it's fun," she just laughed.

Because his life had been so ordinary lately, Harry very strongly believed that when Ron shook him awake one Saturday morning, he was rousing him from some long sleep.

"What?" he mumbled. "Urgh, it's still dark out."

"Someone's in the house," Ron whispered. Harry felt like he'd been doused in icy water.

"_What?"_

"I heard a pan drop in the kitchen. There are people in the house, Harry, _get up!_"

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He jumped out of bed and followed Ron out to the staircase, forgoing his dressing gown. When they reached the first-floor landing, he heard a third set of footsteps behind them; they had woken Snape.

Their wands lit, they tiptoed through the hall. Harry swore he heard whispers, but no lights were on and the front door was still closed. But when Ron crossed the threshold into the kitchen, everyone heard a loud crack that certainly didn't come from Snape's back.

"_Lumos maxima!" _Ron's wand lit up the entire room. There were overturned pans, plates, silverware, and a dinner invitation from Mrs. Weasley on the floor.

Harry couldn't breathe. Someone had definitely broken into their house.


	11. Total Party Kill

**Thank you all for the reviews! Sorry I took so long to update; my internet hasn't been working!**

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><p>"You didn't even have <em>wards<em>?" hissed Hermione the moment Harry opened his front door. Harry had never seen her look this angry or this tired. Her face was red and blotchy, and her hair looked much bushier than usual. Harry wasn't sure why he was surprised; if someone had summoned him at four in the morning, he probably wouldn't have looked his best either.

"I—I didn't—I don't know—" Harry wasn't sure what wards _were_, or else he would have at least considered installing them. "What are those?"

"Wards set off alarms when someone trespasses on your property," said Hermione with an exasperated sigh.

Ron appeared, offering steaming mugs of coffee.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to set up some wards around your lot. Mind you, they're only alarms. If someone breaks into your house again you'll still have to catch them. They won't keep people away, either. You'll need a Repelling Charm for that."

"But why can't we use that?"

"You live in a _suburb_, Ron. People would wonder where your house went."

Two hours later, the sun had started to rise, and Hermione had finished placing the wards and teaching the boys how to use them. Snape had retreated to his room while everyone else examined the scene in the kitchen.

"Is anything missing?" asked Hermione as she examined a few of the pans on the floor.

"I don't think so." Harry picked up the letter from Mrs. Weasley. It was another invitation, this one beckoning them to a party held this evening. It didn't say why, but it did request Harry and Ron to come around three to help setup. "You don't think they read this letter, do you?" Hermione and Ron both looked at him curiously. "Do you think they might come back while we're away?"

"They…they might," said Hermione hesitantly. "But if they do, you still have the wards. Most people run when they hear the noise."

"I guess. But maybe we shouldn't leave," he looked furtively at Ron, "the _butler _here by himself. I don't know what a thief would do if they saw him."

"Great idea, Harry!" said Ron brightly. "We can take him to the party. After all, there's no reason he should have to deal with someone who's after _us_. I'll go invite him!" Ron bounded out of the room and up the stairs.

Hermione grabbed Harry's collar and pulled him very close. "What on earth is wrong with you?" she hissed. "We can't just show up at the party with _Snape_!"

"We can't leave him here! Imagine if Mundungus Fletcher showed up—or worse! He doesn't even have a wand Hermione." Hermione pulled away, looking very contemplative. After a few moments, she asked, "Do you still have your father's cloak?"

"Yes, of course," Harry could see where this was going.

"Then it's time to pull it out of storage."

* * *

><p>Although Hermione's plan to hide Snape with the cloak sounded foolproof, they quickly discovered a problem that they had not foreseen: Snape was very tall, and the cloak didn't quite cover his shoes.<p>

"Just stick with us," Ron said hastily when they got to the Burrow. "You'll be fine."

Ron, luckily, seemed to have no questions about hiding their "butler."

"We wouldn't want them to think we can't take care of ourselves," he had said when Harry told him the plan. "Anyway, Mum probably shouldn't know about the break-in," he had added in a lower voice. "She worries too much already."

Mrs. Weasley greeted them all with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She didn't seem to notice the extra pair of feet sticking very close to Harry, who was starting to find the feet slightly annoying. Especially when he distinctly heard a snicker the moment Ginny kissed him hello. He didn't have much time to dwell on the situation; Mrs. Weasley put him to work almost immediately.

"What is this party even for?" asked Ron as he magicked a pair of chairs outside. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have finally accepted that there was not nearly enough space in the kitchen for a large party. "Don't tell me I won another _Witch Weekly _contest…"

"Oh, no, we've just got some great news from Hogwarts!"

"Really?" Harry glanced over at Ginny. "Are you Head Girl?"

Ginny dropped the stack of plates she had been carrying and burst out laughing.

"Not her," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Bill was just hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's thrilled, of course. Andromeda's on board too; she's teaching Transfiguration. She should be here tonight," she added. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Andromeda hadn't spoken to Harry for over two weeks.

After two hours' preparation, guests began appearing in the backyard. Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder before walking over to Charlie. Neville and Luna also came, dressed in matching bright green robes. They were soon joined by a gaggle of red-haired witches and wizards, who Harry assumed were Weasley relatives. The Delacours waved merrily before kissing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hello, while Andromeda passed Harry without even a curt nod. Even Kingsley Shacklebolt made an appearance.

"Potter, Weasley," he said, beckoning the pair over with a crook of his finger, "a word." Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks but went over. "I understand you two have been preparing for the N.E.W.T.s. I just wanted to let you know, regardless of your scores, there will always be a place in the Ministry for you." He smiled. "Granger and Longbottom, too. Really, anyone who fought for our side last year is welcome to a job—not that you should stop studying!" He added quickly, glancing around the yard as if looking for McGonagall. "These are very important tests."

Harry and Ron walked away grinning. When they told Hermione what Kingsley had said, she looked very conflicted. "Well, I suppose that's good news, but you still need to study! These tests will follow you for the rest of your life!"

Harry had trouble feeling anything but happy. He knew his Potions mark was going to be abysmal, but now it weighed less heavily on his mind.

The party was in full swing. Nearly forty people were bustling around with plates full of food. Harry briefly greeted Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who were both thrilled to have a Weasley on staff. McGonagall had also turned up, but she was deep in conversation with Hermione, and Harry figured it was best to let them be. He glanced around for Ron before remembering that he'd been sent to the market for more strawberries.

"Hey, Harry," said Neville, pulling him aside. "Dean found a hotel that's willing to hold us during the N.E.W.T.s. Just chip in a two galleons for a room!"

"Just two galleons? What type of hotel is this?"

Neville was about to answer when a loud _CRACK _and a shout of, _"Expelliarmus!" _shook the party. A few people shrieked in surprise as their wands left their pockets, but as soon as Harry recognized the two gatecrashers, he knew he had nothing to be afraid of.

Lucius Malfoy was standing in the garden, but it wasn't the same Lucius that Harry was used to seeing. His cheeks and eyes were sunken, his robes were tattered, and his long blonde hair was thinning at the temples. Draco Malfoy stood beside him, clutching an armful of wands and trembling.

"Where is he?" Lucius roared, circling around. No one said a word. "You heard me! _Where is he?_"

Finally, possibly out of pity, Andromeda asked, "Who do you mean, Lucius?"

"Snape!" Whispers rippled through the crowd. Andromeda seemed a very great actress, because she replied, "Lucius, I know he was your friend, but Snape is _dead._ He's not at this party."

"You think me mad, woman?" A few people smirked. "I don't give a damn about the man! I want the bounty on his head." Harry's stomach twisted into a knot. As crazy as Lucius sounded, he seemed very sure that Snape was at this party, and he didn't look like he was planning on leaving without him.

"Lucius, think of what you're doing," Andromeda pled. "Your son has a chance to redeem your name, and you have him out hunting dead—"

"_He's not dead!_" said Lucius viciously. His eyes had left Andromeda and had drifted over to his son. Harry's stomach tightened even further when he saw Draco Malfoy staring at the ground on Harry's left. Lucius's eyes followed and found the tips of Snape's shoes.

"My old friend," he said, a menacing smile stretching over his features. Harry tried to block his path, but he was gracelessly shoved aside. From behind him, Harry heard someone shout, "Lucius stop!" but Lucius's fingers were already stretched out, snatching away the invisibility cloak.

Several people screamed in earnest, Luna called out, "Hello, Professor!" and Harry tried his best to look shocked.

"Severus Snape!" Lucius said with a flamboyant flourish. "If what my son tells me is true, this man has been housed by none other than Harry Potter!"

The party guests didn't seem to be listening. Several were backing away slowly; others were frozen where they stood. Kingsley Shacklebolt, however, maintained his calm persona, and politely stepped forward.

"Lucius, I've been talking to Harry and Minerva, and I had a feeling something like this might be happening and as much as I respect your bringing it to life, I think Molly might prefer if you left her party."

Lucius turned quite red.

"They're criminals!" he cried. "They should be locked up in Azkaban! And we—we caught them! We deserve payment! Damn it, Shacklebolt, we are _Pureblooded Wizards_ and we deserve to be back on top!"

"I'm afraid that's not how it works," Shacklebolt said quietly.

"Then—then—" he looked around wildly. "Then I'll curse the lot of you! You see, I have wands and—and you don't!" He smiled madly at his deduction.

"I think yeh've caused enough trouble today, Malfoy," said Hagrid, stepping out of the throngs of shocked party-goers. "It's time fer yeh to go."

"Keep back, oaf!" Lucius brandished his wand. "I'll—I'll curse you!" A few people had begun to quietly laugh at the spectacle. Even Hagrid let out a low chuckle.

"Yeh overestimate how much I need magic," he said before he picked up Lucius from the shoulders and carried him bodily out of the party.


	12. Roswell that Ends Well

**This is the last chapter! Just so you all know, this has been the most favorite/alerted of all of my fics, so my readers pretty much rock. I do have another story in the works. It's Snape/Lily, and I hope to post it soon. I don't know how frequently it will update, but I'm going to aim for once a week. Glad I could write something you all liked!**

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><p>There was an air of indecision at the party as people glanced from Malfoy to Snape, wondering who to bombard with questions first. Malfoy looked quite young, pale and shaking with his arms full of wands. Snape hadn't moved since Lucius pulled off his cloak.<p>

"I think," Mr. Weasley said before anyone could approach the two men, "that we may need to reschedule the party." An approving murmur rippled through the crowd, and several people stepped forward and took their wands back from Malfoy, avoiding his eyes.

"Luna said something about him," Neville said when he passed Harry, jerking his head toward Snape. "Don't know why I didn't believe her…"

Finally, the yard had cleared except for Harry, Hermione, Snape, Malfoy, Andromeda, McGonagall, Kingsley, and the immediate Weasley family. Ron still seemed to be out to market. Mr. Weasley took a step toward Malfoy and kindly said, "Draco, what—"

"My father made me do it!" cried Draco. Harry had never seen him look so upset; he was biting his lip and trembling from head to toe. "I didn't want to, I just thought he might think it's interesting that Sn-Snape was alive, but all he wanted to do was turn him in and get the reward and go back to our old house! And I just want to take my N.E.W.T.s, really, I just want to _leave._"

Harry and—he assumed from their faces—the rest of the party felt completely gobsmacked. He _rarely_ sympathized with Malfoy, but he couldn't help but pity the sniveling, twitching boy in the garden.

"Draco, why don't you have some pudding," said Mr. Weasley, after a long pause. He pointed Malfoy over to the large, untouched chocolate pudding on a back table. Everyone's eyes seemed to follow him, but snapped back when Mr. Weasley said, "Snape."

The atmosphere shifted from piteous to tense. Ginny bit her lip and fidgeted with her robes, and Harry swore Hermione was eyeing the exits. Andromeda had quickly ushered Malfoy away from the pudding and the party.

"Please—explain—how you came to be Harry's dinner guest."

Snape sighed and launched into the explanation Harry had heard several times. He found his own mind wandering. He wondered where Ron was gone; he longed for someone who hadn't heard Snape's story, even if he seemed a bit touched in the head. Perhaps he'd gotten lost and rambled into Muggle London, or tried to use galleons and broken some Secrecy clause…

Harry had been so lost in thought he hadn't realized Snape had stopped talking until Mrs. Weasley had the most unexpected reaction he had seen so far. She had swept Snape into a hug.

"_You poor man!"_ she gushed as she embraced him with the same rib-breaking intensity that Harry knew so well. Harry had never seen Snape look this uncomfortable. He was standing straight as a ruler with his arms pinned down by his sides, and his eyes were wide as saucers.

"Ahem, Molly," Kingsley said in his calming, slow voice, "we have some things to discuss."

"Of course," said Mrs. Weasley, disentangling herself from Snape, who looked quite relieved. "I just—the centaurs—it sounds _horrid_—he was so—brave."

"Er, yes, I agree, but surely you recognize the severity of the situation. Snape, you _killed_ Dumbledore, and no matter how innocent you are, I doubt anyone's going to see past it."

"Oh, why don't you just print a big story in the _Prophet_?" said Mrs. Weasley, smoothing the front of her robes off-handishly. "I don't know why, but everyone _still _believes that rag."

If people hadn't been staring at Mrs. Weasley before, they certainly were now. Even Kingsley's mouth was agape. An odd, angry, bubbling sensation was taking over Harry's stomach.

"I'm sorry—what?"

"Just tell the world he's innocent, and stick him someplace no one goes. Everyone loves a vindicated hero as long as he keeps his nose clean."

"I suppose," said Kingsley slowly. "It's better than any idea I had."

Finally, Harry snapped. "Wait," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "You mean I've been keeping this man in my house, keeping a _huge _secret, when all I had to do was _tell you?_" Kingsley nodded. "No! That's stupid! That's too easy!" exploded Harry. "We thought prison, with thought _Azkaban _and you—you're telling me—"

"Harry, calm down," Hermione said urgently.

"No! I'm not calming down! That's a stupid ending, and I—"

"Hey." Suddenly every eye was on Ron, who had just walked in carrying two baskets of strawberries. "Sorry I took so long—Muggle money—where'd everyone go? Why's the butler here?"

The last of Harry's shouts died in his throat. He turned to Hermione and said, "He's _your _boyfriend, _you _tell him."

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were completely centered on Snape. The <em>Daily Prophet <em>had an entire week devoted to telling his story in addition to interviews with other Hogwarts staff members and Harry. Reporters clambered for an interview with Snape, whom they'd dubbed 'The elusive Hero,' but he was nowhere to be found. Harry was one of the few privy to knowing his hiding place: the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had welcomed him like a child and not let him leave until he was, in her words, "fully healed, emotionally and physically." To do so, she had spent much of her time arranging private dates with several single witches, including Andromeda.

Andromeda seemed to be slowly and grudgingly forgiving Harry. He still hadn't seen Teddy, but when he took the N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts he swore she had smiled at him.

Hermione and Ron had left for France only hours after the exams. Ron sent letters nearly every week, and it sounded like they were having a good time. Ron did not, however, have a strong grasp of the language, and had apparently ordered a restaurant's entire quantity of snails one night at dinner.

Harry was quite fond of living alone, but he did miss his friends and Ginny. He was rather delighted when she sent word inviting him to Hogsmeade that Halloween.

"So, how's school?" he asked, after they broke apart from a long and rather pleasurable kiss.

"You sound like Mum," she laughed, grabbing his hand. "Where are you taking me?"

"I thought we'd go someplace quiet." They walked hand-in-hand through Hogsmeade. All around him Harry saw happy couples. Neville and Luna were walking together wearing matching furry hats shaped like lions to protect them from the brisk wind. As Ginny talked about Quidditch scouts frequenting games, Harry noticed Dean and Daphne, who seemed to be on a double-date with a rather awkward-looking Malfoy and a girl Harry assumed was Daphne's younger sister.

"Have you gotten your N.E.W.T.s back yet?"

"Yeah, I did pretty well. Got an 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He didn't think it necessary to mention his 'P' in Potions. He was very grateful for Kingsley's promise of a job.

The road was starting to wind, and there were fewer and fewer Hogwarts students walking along.

"Harry, where are you taking me?"

"Well, I'm not sure if this is the right place, but I was talking to Kingsley and mentioned…is Snape still living with your parents?"

"No, thank goodness. Mum said he got a job somewhere people never go. Now what did Kingsley mention?" They stopped outside a familiar pub, looking up at the painting of a hog. "Oh, gods, not the Hog's Head?" She swung the door open and stopped cold.

Snape was standing inside, wearing a barman's apron over his typical black robes. He looked at Harry and Ginny with utmost malevolence and said in the flattest, coldest tone Harry had ever heard, "Welcome to the Hog's Head. What can I get you?"


End file.
